Once Upon A Christmas Eve
by Aindel S. Druida
Summary: A short, humorous, dramatic, fluffy Christmas story about Harry and Ginny. Harry's 7th year. Dedicated to Omnifarious. Now with AU!


DISCLAIMER:  My idea.  That's it.

A/N: This fic is entirely dedicated to Omnifarious, because it is hers.  I wrote it for her as a Christmas present.  Merry Christmas to everybody everywhere (even though it's a little late) and a very happy New Year.

            Gryffindor Tower was an absolute wreck.  Of course, as much was expected when Hermione had approached McGonagall on behalf of her house about letting them decorate the tower this year.  Normally, the house elves performed this task (and did a marvelous job at that), but the Gryffindors had felt very "in the spirit" this particular year.  The overabundance of festive feelings were most likely due to the war that had finally ended Halloween night.  So many lives had been lost, so much blood spilled out on the field.  People had wondered about the stains on the grass, since wizards could kill so easily, but the Death Eaters were ruthless.  They didn't enjoy killing so much as inflicting fatalities and leaving their victims to die in merciless agony.  Such deaths had called for cheer to help with the pain, which brought about the current fiasco in the tower.

Everything was everywhere.  Lavender stood in front of a trio of second years sitting on a sofa, attempting to get rid of the inch thick glitter that presently covered them.  The first years all huddled against the doors to their dormitories, afraid of the wreaths that zoomed about the Common Room, knocking over students with large piles of parcels.  Neville was magically bound to the top of the tree by Seamus and Dean, who were currently levitating up a pair of wings to attach to him.  Parvati tried her hardest not to slip on the various coloured tree baubles as she stepped over to Hermione, who was shouting at Dean and Seamus while trying to cast a stopping charm on the runaway wreaths.  "It's not going so well, is it?"

            "However could you tell?" Hermione gave the girl a "you don't have to tell me twice" look.  "Harry!  Get over here!"

            "I can't, Hermione, I'm - mmph!"  Harry was cut off by a piece of garland that had snuck up behind and gagged him.  

            "Oi!  Let go of him!" Ron shouted as he turned around to see his friend trying to talk through the shimmery mass of gold foil.  He pulled on the garland angrily, but to no avail.  Ginny joined him, and together they managed to pull the murderous Christmas decoration off their friend.  Harry leapt up and ran to Hermione, who was far away from the sneaky garland.

            "Whew!" he sighed.  "Now, what was it you wanted, Hermione?"

            "I want order!" she shrieked.  "I want organization!  I want things done properly!"

            "Easy, Hermione.  Breathe.  What's the big deal?"

            "The big deal, Harry, is that today is Christmas Eve."

            "I knew that."

            "Which means that tomorrow is Christmas."

            "Erm…yeah…"

            "And _that_ means that all of the decorations need to be up and perfect before dinner _tonight_."

            "Ah.  I knew there had to be point somewhere in that."  Harry chuckled as his friend glared daggers at him.  "Relax, will you?  Everything will be alright."  

            "Oh really?  Tell that to poor Neville up there."

            He sighed again.  "Alright.  I'll try to sort some of this out."  He went over to the two boys who were currently Neville's tormenters and began to negotiate Neville's safe return to the ground.  Hermione turned back to the wreaths, which had decided it would be fun to drag their ribbons through the tinsel on the carpet and track it across the room.

            "Arretio!"  The wreaths stopped in midair and fell to the floor.  She walked over to help Lavender, who had thus far only succeeded in doubling the amount of glitter that covered the students and furniture.  She cast a Banishing spell, for which the girls were very thankful, and hurried off to stop more chaos from occurring.  

            A door slammed shut at the top of the stairs, indicating that Neville was no longer acting as the tree angel.  Harry put the two of them to work collecting the baubles and tinsel that were strewn across the tower.  Ron and Ginny had coaxed the garland back into a limp pile in its box.  They began, along with the others who had not been overly traumatized by the events, to pick up the odds and ends lying about.

            "This is _much_ better," Hermione stated, once they had finished decorating.  It had taken them all of the time between lunch and dinner to get it right.  The Head Girl had decided, to the dismay of everyone, that they would be doing everything the Muggle way, as to alleviate the chaos that had happened last time.  

            "It had better be.  I'd hate to think we'd done all that work for nothing," Ron said.  The seventh years (plus Ginny) had been the only ones to finish the decorating.  The others had all dropped out when they discovered how much work was involved.

            "I second that," answered Seamus as they all collapsed onto the furniture.  "Hermione's a bloody slave driver."

            "It could have been worse!"

            "Pray tell how, O Merciless Master."

            "I could have made you decorate the tree with a theme."  There was silence as all eyes turned toward the gigantic plant to the right of the fireplace.  It was true; the tree had no particular theme or pattern.  Differently styled ornaments, from bright character ornaments (supplied by the Muggle-borns) to ornately shaped glass cones and baubles.  Magically altered lights twinkled amid the branches and garland (which Harry was still very cautious around) while the white angel sat on top, a soft glow coming from the "candles" she held in either hand.

            "Still looks good though," said Harry.

            Everyone agreed.  They stayed up a few more hours talking to one another about random things.  Eventually, though, they drifted off to bed, waiting anxiously to wake up the next morning to presents from friends and family.

            Harry stayed in the Common Room, though.  He stretched out in front of the fire, gazing up at the tree.  He loved the trees at Hogwarts, with their fresh pine smell and fun decorations.  His Christmases at the Dursleys had always been restricted by Vernon and Petunia, who were particular about every bit of the holiday.  The tree in the lounge was small, false, and boring.  It was only about four and a half feet in height, with a silver center and stark white branches.  The only ornaments allowed on the tree were Aunt Petunia's small silver baubles, which matched perfectly with the small silver star on the top of the tree.  The thin, wiry garland wrapped precisely around the branches was deep blue.  No parcels were allowed to go under it until Christmas Eve, so the house didn't look untidy when visitors came to call before then.  Everyone was to be out of bed precisely at eight o'clock to get ready for Christmas church service at nine.  They would stand outside after the service for a half hour before going home.  After a brunch, they would gather in the lounge and open gifts, except Harry, who had received none.  Then the paper would be gathered and put out at the side of the road, the gifts would be put in their new places, and the house would be cleaned.  Vernon's relatives would come over and eat Christmas dinner, while Harry sat in his room with a small plate of potatoes and steamed vegetables.  The turkey, as Aunt Petunia said, was for guests to enjoy, not useless, disrespectful orphans.

            The Dursleys were dead now.  Surprisingly, they had died trying to prevent Death Eaters from getting at Harry.  The Dark Mark had hung over many houses on Privet Drive that night.  The following weeks had been riddled with murders and disappearances.  Charlie and Bill Weasley were dead, as well as Mr. Granger, Luna Lovegood and her father, Neville's Gran, Padma Patil, the Creevey family, and countless others.  There was no one in the world, wizarding or otherwise, who had not been affected by the last battles against the Dark Lord.

            A stair creaked, and Harry turned around.  "Who's there?"

            "It's me, Harry," Ginny replied, coming down the last few steps.  "What are still doing up?"

            "I can't sleep."

            "You need to try.  You don't want to be tired and grumpy on Christmas."

            "I just can't get over it, Ginny.  There are so many people who should be in their beds tonight, and they're not.  They're buried forever in the ground."

            The girl sighed and sat down beside him.  "I can't forget it either, but you can't let it stop you from living and going onward.  My brothers should be at the Burrow with my parents, but they're not, nor will they ever be again.  It's hard, but you have to hope that now they're in a place where there is no war or struggling."

            "It's more than that.  So many people died because of me.  I _killed_ people, Ginny.  It's not something you can take lightly."

            "I did too, Harry.  We all did.  I took out Lucius Malfoy after Draco fell.  He murdered his own son.  It was for the greater good of the world that people like him died."  Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny stopped him.  "I'm not saying what we did was right, but it was our duty in that situation.  You have to think of things in the light of the greater good for the world.  If you don't, you'll work yourself into a permanent depression, and I don't want to see that happen to you."

            They sat in silence for a while, staring into the warm flames leaping about the logs.

            "It's still easier for me than it is for you, isn't it?" the girl asked.

            Harry nodded.  "You don't know what it's like.  People look to you to solve all their problems.  They entrust their lives and the lives of others to your care and protection, and you can't always guarantee they'll get it.  I don't like being their hero.  I hate having the blood of those who died with us on my hands."

            "But it's…"

            "Yes, it is, Ginny.  I should have been able to protect those people.  I should have been able to prevent Sirius from falling through the veil.  I should have been there to step between the Death Eaters and your brothers.  But I wasn't.  And believe me, there are people who feel the same as I do.  I get letters from mothers whose children were killed, cursing me because I didn't save them.  Every time, I think, 'what if I could have been there?' and I feel guilty."

            Ginny shook her head.  There was no way to respond to all that.  She knew he was wrong, that those deaths had nothing to do with his lack of action, but she couldn't put anything to words.  She stared at him silently as he closed his eyes to calm himself down.  Tentatively, she touched his shoulder.  He shuddered for a second, and then relaxed.

            Finally, she spoke to him.  "There was nothing you could have done then, Harry," she said softly, "and there's nothing you can do now.  Close your eyes and just say a prayer for everyone who's here and everyone who isn't, that they can all find peace of mind."

            He did so.  When he was finished, he looked at her.  "How do you know about prayer and Muggle religions?"

            "You forget who my dad is."

            "Ah."

            In the silence that followed, Ginny realized her hand was still on Harry's shoulder.  Quickly, she drew it back.  Harry turned his head slightly and smiled at her before reaching his hand back for hers.  She looked at their hands before giving him a questioning look.

            "Thank you," he said.

            "For what?"

            "For coming down here.  For helping me.  For staying here."  He shrugged.  "For everything."

            He leaned closer to her as she closed her eyes.  Their lips met hesitantly, both of them very nervous.  They broke apart slowly, and Harry took the time to move closer to Ginny.  He glanced at the large clock over the mantle and saw that it was after midnight.

            "Happy Christmas, Gin," he said, pulling her close for another kiss.

            "Happy Christmas, Harry."   

A/N:  I hate the phrase Happy Christmas.  I don't know why it bugs me so much, but it does.

That's it.  The end.  No more.  Nothing.  Nada.  So don't bother asking for it, because you won't get it.

Happy Holidays!

Aindel


End file.
